


April 26th, 1996 (The Journal)

by cocoacremeandgays



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bro is Just Really Angry, Family Shenanigans, Female to Male transgender, Gen, Homosexuality, Journal Entries, More Tags Will Be Added as the Story Goes On, Shitty Immune Systems (Mentioned), Sickness (mentioned), Transgender Pregnancy, Trust me there will be a lot more, Vomiting (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6717274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocoacremeandgays/pseuds/cocoacremeandgays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5/3/1996<br/>Friday</p>
<p>I wasn't gonna write today. I was going to drop this whole "journal" thing, too, but David came to me after I got home from work with some big news.</p>
<p>Some "holy shit what the fuck do we do now" news.</p>
<p>I still have no idea how to process this, and I don't know how I feel about it. Should I feel happy, weirded out, or upset? Because it's a little bit of all three, but I also don't really </p>
<p>I don't know. It's worryin', honest.</p>
<p>I don't think we're ready for kids.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Also known as:<br/>After being given a journal writing assignment from his therapist, Derrick (Bro Strider) is confronted with some big news. As life goes on, Derrick thinks that the journal was the thing that set the ball rolling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. April 26th, 1996-May 3rd, 1996

_**4/26/1996** _  
_**Friday** _

  
_I don't know why the hell I'm makin' this, honest._

_This ain't 'bout to be somethin' I'm doing for more than a week. I find this stupid. I don't think that I need to experiment with this shit. I dont even know why the hell Mr. Catshit decided I need to do this._

_So, in case I end up forgettin' who the absolute fuck I am when I come back and read this, my name is Broderrick. I don't know why the fuck my mom decided that was the greatest name for me, half of the people I introduce myself to don't think Broderrick is even a real name. I've furthermore decided to hand a large fuck you to my parents and proceed with the name Derrick._

_Not much better, but at least people don't question me as much, or somethin'._

_As of now, I live in Texas. Small apartment in Houston, cute dinky little thing. One bedroom, shitty kitchen, pretty sure there are ladybugs infestin' the goddmn kitchen. I'm only sharin' this because I probably will move to somewhere more interestin' later in life. Maybe to Chicago._

_Or Minnesota. I heard they got real good health care up there, or somethin'. It would be a long journey, and we'd have to wait a while before we got the real funds to actually go about actually buyin' a house up there, but apparently it'd be worth it._

_Also, in case I come back to this in thirty seven years and read through this, and forget completely what life was like in the "good 'ol days", I got married about three years ago. His name's David, we met in middle school. I remember we practically hated each other back then. The irony of life, am I right, or am I right?_

_I think that's enough for now._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**4/27/1996** _  
_**Saturday** _

_I don't know why I'm still doing this._

_Mr. Catshit only told me I had to "Try it out", whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, and here I am, the exact next day after tryin' it out, not liking any bit of it, but I'm doin' it again. Maybe there's some subconscious part of me that actually wants to do this. Or, wants to like doin' this, more like._

_I don't know what the hell is wrong with my head, honestly, because who in their right mind would want to go ahead and keep a composition notebook that might as well be a teenage chick's diary? It's got goddamn ponies on it._

_That's the only redeeming quality of this notebook. And by only, I mean only. There is absolutely zilch other shit about this notebook that I enjoy. Nothin' 'bout this piece of shit that I want in my everyday life. But, of-fucking-course, just my goddamn luck, I'm assigned by Mr. Catshit to honest to Betsy keep a journal of every day of my life._

_Which is ironic in all the wrong ways._

_I need coffee._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**4/28/1996** _  
_**Sunday** _

_"Today is a day for rest and thanks." is probably what my father would have said if he had been given the chance to shoot me a call today. Well, I'm thankful that he can't do that, considerin' the fact that he's long dead and gone._

_Just to spite Mr. Catshit, I ain't goin' into that business. He's been tryin' way too fuckin' hard to get into my head, Mr. Catshit has. I ain't gonna give him the satisfaction of opening up about my fucking past, even though that's what kind of landed me here, with this stupid book and stupid black pen, in the first place._

_So, another big fuck you to Mr. Catshit, because like hell I'm going to give him any satisfaction. He doesn't deserve that. I don't know why I keep going to him, really._

_Maybe it's to keep David feelin' all safe._

_Whatever it is, I know it's pretty much just my obligation to keep goin', zappin' up our money like no tomorrow._

_God, fuckin' sigh._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**4/29/1996** _  
_**Monday** _

_David must have come down with the flu recently._

_Woke up at six in the mornin' this mornin' to him throwin' up. It was nasty, yeah, but I decided to take the day off to help take care of him. Whenever he gets sick, he gets *sick*. He don't get colds, only gets the flu, normally with vomiting galore. Ain't sure if he's got a great immune system, considering he doesn't get sick often, or if he's got the shittiest immune system, considerin' he gets sick bad whenever he does get sick._

_David is sleepin' right now, so I decided to write down in this dumb notebook, on the side of e-mailin' my boss. She's not happy that I can't come in to work, but I need to stay home and take care of David. She knows that, and David and her are pretty good friends, so I think everythin's gonna be okay._

_I hate feelin' the need to stay at home when he's sick, but I got to keep an eye on him._

_It's like havin' a kid at home, can't leave him alone ever, don't want him to accidentally kill himself with the fridge, or somethin'._

_How do you kill yourself with a fridge? No idea, but it'd probably happen._

_Whatever._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**4/30/1996** _  
_**Tuesday** _

_David is still sick. It's like clockwork. I hope nothin's wrong._

_I know it's really unlikely that he's got anythin' super bad wrong with him, or just wrong with him in general, but I'm still worried. I'm allowed to be worried about my husband, goddamn it._

_It's noon and David is asleep. Thankfully the shop was closed today thanks to some accident that happened. I hope it wasn't Ron that fucked somethin' up again, the asshole. I don't know why he was hired, honestly. He gets on everyone's nerves, tries way too hard to be liked, 'n all that._

_I just think he's askin' for trouble._

_But this time, I can't be too angry. This way, I can keep an eye on Davis for another day before I have to go back to work tomorrow. Bein' an adult really sucks._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/1/1996** _  
_**Wednesday** _

_Fuckin' Ron hit a turkey on the side of the road today._

_I have no idea why I decided to carpool with him, but he hit a fucking turkey. How the fuck do you hit a fucking turkey? It was in the grass, and it's not like it decided to just jump out of fuckin' nowhere and smack into the side of the truck._

_He hit the damn thing with the front of his truck._

_God, I hate that guy. His voice is annoying, too, like he hasn't hit puberty yet, honest._

_He's thirty or so, too._

_But work was pretty nice, even though Ron was there. He's there without fail, every day. Half the time he slacks off, messes with that computer in the main office, rather than the machines in the shop. We have shipments to make, he should know that we can't afford to be idiots and ditz around like little shits._

_Jessa was there, too. With her kid. Her kid sat in the main office, drawing in a notebook. I think her name's Emma. She's five years old, I think, but Emma is quiet, and really nice. She only speaks if spoken to, and stays out of the way. Real good kid to have in the office. Not afraid to do what she's told, either, which might be a bad quality later in life. She's obedient._

_Not excited to see Mr. Catshit tomorrow. It's late, and I should sleep, but I ain't tired. Mr. Catshit better not make me read this out loud. I kind of hope he reads this himself, though. These pages might be put to good use, and if that's to be read by Mr. Catshit and make him feel bad, I think I'm okay with that._

_David isn't sick anymore, which is good. He does look a bit queasy, though, he has been lookin' pretty under the weather all week, now that I think about it, but I'm pretty sure he's okay. He ain't complainin', which is always nice, though that's generally a sign that there's somethin' botherin' him. Seems like there's somethin' on his mind, I don't know what, but I might have to talk to him about it._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/2/1996** _  
_**Thursday** _

_I saw Mr. Catshit today._

_He had me read my entry out fuckin' loud, the jackass. I told him I had written more than one, and he told me that that was a good thing._

_"It's good to have something to focus on and relax with when you have the time," He had said, "a journal is a great way to do that."_

_I call bullfuckery._

_It's not like this makes me happy, or relieves stress. It might just make it more stressful, now that I think about it, because I think about everythin'. Like I gotta face all the shit goin' on in life, I don't want to do that._

_Anyway, Mr. Catshit asked me to read one of my entries to him. I chose to read yesterday's, the one with Ron and Emma, and David. I left no parts out, not even the part where I called out Mr. Catshit and about how I hated seein' him._

_After I read the entry, he looked at me, real determined like, and asked me why I thought that Emma's obedience would be a bad quality later in life. "Wouldn't that just make her a good student?" He asked._

_I told him that just because obedience had a good connotation, didn't mean it would be a good thing. He asked why._

_I told him that it was because the obedient ones were always the one's hit the hardest. He asked why I thought that._

_I told him I just do._

_It was a white lie, but I don't really care. I don't need him in my mind. He knows enough as it is._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/3/1996** _  
_**Friday** _

_I wasn't gonna write today. I was going to drop this whole "journal" thing, too, but David came to me after I got home from work with some big news._

_Some "holy shit what the fuck do we do now" news._

_I still have no idea how to process this, and I don't know how I feel about it. Should I feel happy, weirded out, or upset? Because it's a little bit of all three, but I also don't really_

_I don't know. It's worryin', honest._

_Needless to say, I thought this news was worth documenting._

_After I got home from work, David sat me down on the couch and told me not to freak out._

_"Don't freak out, okay? Because I know you will." Were his exact words. "This is not your thing, and this is not my thing, this is not our thing, but it's a thing. It is an official, full blown, not-reality-without-it, holy motherfucking ducks, thing. Ducks as in, we need to buy little rubber duckies and float them in the tub with the thing, because holy shit is this thing going to need little duckies and water, it's going downhill like something straight out of a bad sledding movie."_

_I find it weird how I remember everything he had said. Maybe it's just the whole gravity of it, that makes me_

_That causes_

_that fucking_

_I don't know._

_David sat me down and told me he was pregnant. "I went off of testosterone for the mastectomy thing a month or two or so ago, and this is how my body repays me."_  
_We both know this is going to be a huge step, especially with who we are in general. People are going to start hating David, and I don't want that. Neither of us do._

_I don't think we're ready for kids._

_Derrick the motherduck (yes, I hate myself for sayin' that) out._


	2. May 4th, 1996-May 11th, 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5/9/1996  
> Thursday
> 
> Mr. Catshit asked me why I don't eat those things on Sundays.
> 
> I didn't reply.
> 
> He asked me why that meal held significance.
> 
> I didn't say a damned thing.
> 
> He asked me why not on a green plate. "Why do they mean so much to you?"
> 
> I told him I didn't want to talk about it.

_**5/4/1996** _   
_**saturday**_

_David was sick again tonight._

_Which, y'know, kinda sucks because. Vomitin' sucks. And is gross._   
_and_

_Fuck i dont know im tired._

_I really feel that i should stop continuin' this whole "journal" thing, because this honest to god ain't my thing, just as the honest-to-god fireplace ain't a real goddamn fire place, it's just a goddamn pit in the backyard with rocks in it._

_but here i am, continuin' to write in this dumb ass journal, with the fuckin' ponies on the cover. It's five in the morning on saturday, i dont wake up until noon at least on saturdays because david goes shoppin' on sundays because we all know im the most reclusive goddamn spider in the entirety of any universe and fuck whatever this shit turned into im huddling back into my comfy as fuck bed coccoon* with my husband and no blue pen or notebook with ponies on the goddamn cover even though ponies are the shit_

_*and this had a thing behind it like those spiders that are recluses that hide underground in their underground web homes_

_point is im tired_

_point is david is still pregnant_

_point is there is no point_

_point is_

_~~derrek~~ derrick the motherfuck out_

_**5/5/1996** _   
_**Sunday**_

_Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how I look at this in the future, in case I regret all of my life decisions and not endin' up offin' myself or someone else in the past), no one died this weekend._

_David went shoppin'. Got real food. Fuckin'._

_Tomatoes, and pickles._

_Who the fuck eats tomatoes and pickles._

_I sure as hell don't. Don't eat tomatoes, or pickles, fuckin' zuccini, or even porkchops._

_Especially not porkchops with mashed potatoes, which have butter in the middle and onions, and especially not on a green plate and especially not on Sundays._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_**5/6/1996** _   
_**Monday**_

_I'm happy to have gone back to work today. I'm sure David is too. David works home most of the time, anyway, so he's got a good system goin' on, I guess. I'm not lookin' foreword to later on. In a few months, when this gets further._

_More noticeable._

_I don't want to do the shoppin' then._

_Maybe we'll have to switch that shit to Saturdays._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_Okay, so it's two hours later and I just realized that I didn't ask David anythin' about any of that baby shit. As in, what our plan is, and all that. Our conversation was long and in all honesty kinda borin', but we came out at the end, and y'know what, future me of whom already probably knows this_

_We got this planned out._

_We are good as gold._

_Fuckin' A+++'s were sent out._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_**5/7/1996** _   
_**Tuesday**_

_I think I thought of a good reason to keep goin' at this whole "journal" thing, no matter how stupid this whole ordeal turned out to fuckin' be._

_Maybe I'll just keep it as some sort of momento, keep writing in it everyday, since the habit's already there, yeah? And keep addin' on, keep._

_Fuckin' hell, how does one explain shit like this proper._

_I guess I want to keep this around in order to document changes in everyday life, since we found out about the kid around the same time the whole "journal" thing came in to play._

_Maybe this journal is some sort of omen. Hah, as if. This journal is just a dumb book, Derrick. Just a dumb notebook with fuckin' horses on it. Fuckin' ponies._

_How could ponies possibly translate into fucking omen._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_**5/8/1996** _   
_**Wednesday**_

_I really gotta stop car poolin' with Ron, I swear to fuckin' God._

_The guy himself is an omen, the damned man. He hit a turkey last fuckin' week, and this week he ended up comin' this close to hittin' a fuckin' deer._

_Here, let me reiterate: A fuckin' deer._

_Those big horse-like animals that seem to be cross-bread with fuckin' goats or moose or some shit, with the funky horn showbusiness goin' on up on their heads, jeez, deer always fuckin' creeped the shit out of me. Their eyes are too big and it's like they see me in a way that's unnervin'._

_When we got to work, though, I was just fuckin' thankful that we didn't end up dyin' on the way. He parked all wrong, the asshat, and all the while he grinned like a creepy maniac._

_Got into the office, and there was Jessa and her kid, Emma. Again, real sweet kid, nice to have in the office, the quiet, "I'm going to read a book and keep out of your way" type. Her hair was held up in a braid today, which doesn't really mean nothin', just a bit different. Noteable, I guess._

_I had David come pick me up tonight, because like hell I was gonna let Ron (asshole) drive me back home._

_I don't even know why I agreed to the fuckin' carpool shit._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_**5/9/1996** _   
_**Thursday**_

_Went to see Mr. Catshit today, and he told me that I should read another one of my journals when I told him I had kept writin' in the dumb thing. I really don't like doin' this shit, but I'm goin' to do this anyway._

_I regret agreein'._

_I flipped to some random-ass page in the journal of shitty stupidity, with the dumb ass ponies on the cover, and found one of my journals. I began to read it, and only part way through did I realize it was my Sunday journal. Needless to say, I quit readin' the damn Sunday journal, and sat there with my mouth shut._

_Mr. Catshit had the audacity to ask me why I stopped reading. I told him I didn't want to read it anymore. He asked me why I felt that way, and I went "fuck it". Not like it revealed my whole life story, anyway._

_Mr. Catshit asked me why I don't eat those things on Sundays._

_I didn't reply._

_He asked me why that meal held significance._

_I didn't say a damned thing._

_He asked me why not on a green plate. "Why do they mean so much to you?"_

_I told him they didn't mean shit, that's why I didn't fuckin' eat them on Sundays._

_"They must have meant something to you," the connivin' bastard. "If you were so specific, it has to have some meaning."_

_I told him I didn't want to talk about it._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_**5/10/1996** _   
_**Friday**_

_David was throwin' up again today. I don't even know why I keep sayin' that, he's thrown up at least once everyday since the twenty ninth, or whatever the fuck. God, I have no idea how the fuck he (and all the other pregnant people) do that whole pregnancy thing. Seems like just nine months of complete and utter shit, if ya ask me._

_I asked him why he wanted to have the kid. Asked him if we were really ready._

_He told me, "I'm not getting rid of it."_

_I asked why. I sounded like my fuckin' therapist, eyebrow quirk an' all._

_"Because I can't kill something that hasn't even had a chance to live yet."_

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_**5/11/1996** _   
_**Saturday**_

_Bad news: David is still vomitin' his guts up in the mornin'._

_Good(?) news: Probably means he's still pregnant._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._


	3. May 12th, 1996-May 18th, 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5/13/1996  
> Monday
> 
> He threw up, I said somethin' about the exorcist, and we had a bit of a laugh, too. We changed our date plans to, instead, messin' around in the field, tryin' to catch the fireflies that were swarmin' around all over, and even though David didn't look like he was feelin' too good health wise, he told me that he was really happy, and that's all that I could ever ask for.

_**5/12/1996** _   
_**Sunday** _

_I'm seriously thinkin' of droppin' the journal thing. At least on Sundays, because I'm really never in the mood to do this on Sundays. I've slipped up twice so far with Mr. Catshit, both of which related to a Sunday happenin', and I refuse to go about screwin' up my dumb ass secrets. They're secrets for a reason, dammit, and I'm not about to spill all of my deepest darkest shit like some desperately depressed teenager lookin' for attention, or whatever. I'm not willin' to subject myself to receivin' compassion when I don't want it, thank you very fuckin' much._

_I know that David wants me to at least try to open up to Mr. Catshit, but_

_Oh._

_Oh hold the fuck up, I see what this is, it's definitely the fuckin' notebook. There's somethin' about the innocence of the goddamn ponies that makes me wanna spill all of my secrets into this thing, to explain every little feelin' I feel. Ya know how I know this?_

_Because it is happenin' right now._

_These goddamn ponies with their goddamn rainbow color schemes and their sparkly eyes, and the clouds in the background lookin' all cutesie as shit, but here I am, spewin' shit that don't even make sense, because of the goddamn ponies. I knew I should have chosen a different notebook. Maybe a plain brown one, or somethin' of the sort._

_Maybe._

_Fuck it. I'm tired._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/13/1996** _   
_**Monday** _

_I know I ain't gonna remember this twenty years into the future, so I guess it's story time._

_I came home 'round three in the afternoon today, because we ran outta work to do at the shop. That doesn't happen often, so when it does, it's pretty much a blessin' of atheistic sorts, or what the shit ever. I drove to work today, because carpool is only on Wednesdays, but even still I'm thinkin' of just cuttin' that shit loose anyway, even if it saves on gas._

_Hold on, no, I'll deal with it. Saves us gas money._

_That's beside the point. I got home, and David asked me if I wanted to go down to the bar and grill ten minutes away for dinner and just have a good time. I said sure, as long as he wasn't plannin' on drinkin' himself silly, because that kinda can't happen anymore. He assured me he wouldn't._

_"Besides, you're the one who drinks on the regular," David had said. "If anything, I should be worried about you drinking yourself silly."_

_I "tch"ed at him._

_Around four in the afternoon is when we left, so about an hour later. Durin' the drive, we made small talk, but stopped after five minutes._

_Now, there's this field you gotta drive passed in order to get to this bar and grill, and it's pretty much just a long stretch of road with no buildin's or nothin' in between. It's like there's a mile-long area that hasn't been touched by civilization at all, other than the dirt road you gotta drive on, and hardly anyone drives down this road unless they gotta get someplace real quick. The field, off to the right hand side when you're drivin' down the area, is where David and I first *really* got to know each other. It was cliche as fuck, and awkward as fuck, but it was some real movie shit, and I wouldn't change it for the world._

_Anyway, maybe about halfway down this long stretch of deserted road-field, David put his hand on my arm and told me to stop. When I glanced over, I realized that he looked totally awful, and his free hand was on his stomach. At first, I was confused, because why would he want me to stop in the middle of a field, and why was he holdin' himself like that. I stopped anyway, pulled off into the field a bit. David was out before I set the damned thing in park, and when I got out I realized he was havin' a heck of a time either tryin'a throw up, or tryin'a not throw up. I couldn't tell. All I know, is that it was a shit ton of dry heavin'. It was nasty as all livin' hell. I sat next to where he had crouched, and we sat there for damn near half an hour while he tried to compose himself enough to either reassure me he was good enough to go home, or until he finally threw up._

_He threw up, I said somethin' about the exorcist, and we had a bit of a laugh, too. We changed our date plans to, instead, messin' around in the field, tryin' to catch the fireflies that were swarmin' around all over, and even though David didn't look like he was feelin' too good health wise, he told me that he was really happy, and that's all that I could ever ask for._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/14/1996** _   
_**Tuesday** _

_I stubbed my toe today. It hurt like an absolute bitch, which I'm not surprised about. Really, I'd be concerned if I stubbed my toe and it didn't hurt like an absolute bitch._

_Got home and David was cryin' while eatin' ice cream and watchin' "Friends" on the television._

_I asked him what was up. David answered between sobs._

_"I just relate so much to Monica, and you're Chandler and it's just too perfect!"_

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/15/1996** _   
_**Wednesday** _

_I had a pretty bad day today._

_Ron didn't hit anythin', or come close (finally), but he was bein' an annoyin' asshat and pointed shit out that I really didn't want to be pointed out. I heard someone cryin' in the bathroom today, I couldn't place who. It was in the girl's bathroom, so I'm guessin' it was one of the girls. Considerin' how high the voice was, it was either Molly or Emma._

_Ron fucked up a thing on one of the lasers today, and I ended up needin' to stay over my lunch break to fix what he screwed up. I didn't get to eat lunch, which isn't the end of the world, but makes for a pretty uncomfy evenin' and a grumpy attitude from my end._

_That night, David was in the mood. I tried, but I couldn't do it. He said it was fine, that I didn't have to if I didn't want to, but I still feel bad. I'm sleepin' on the couch tonight. It was my choice to do this, not David's. He tried to coax me back into bed, but I won't come._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/16/1996** _   
_**Thursday** _

_Since it's Thursday, I went to see Mr. Catshit. He asked me how everythin' was, how I was doin', how David was doin'. He asked about Ron, if I still disliked him, and I said yes. He asked why I disliked him so much, I told him I just do._

_Mr. Catshit told me to try and befriend Ron, try not to push him away. Pretend you're a blind man, judge on how they act, all that metaphorical bullshit. I said I think that way anyway._

_Mr. Catshit asked about my parents. I told him my mom was in a home._

_"What about your father?"_

_I told him he died a long time ago. He asked how long ago. I told him I didn't remember, but I do._

_I remember. Course I remember. I just want to forget._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/17/1996** _   
_**Friday** _

_David fell down the stairs of the apartment today._

_He went to the hospital, because he was worried about the baby, even though it was a pretty minor fall. The stress probably affected him more than the fall did, because he was shakin' like a leaf the entire wait._

_The doctor came in, ran the ultrasound, and pointed out that the babies were just fine._

_Yep._

_Plural._

_Both David and I were shocked as hell, because we were expectin' just one baby, not two, but the doctor showed us the scans, and sure enough, there were two li'l munchkins in there._

_Are._

_There are two li'l munchkins in there._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

_**5/18/1996** _   
_**Saturday** _

_We tried again to go out to the bar and grill today, and this time, no one threw up. We had a good time, ate some good as hell burgers, and all in all were glad we decided to try headin' out there again. We don't normally go to that place, because it can get a little bit spendy, but it was well worth it. You get what you pay for._

_In a good way this time._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._


	4. May 19th, 1996-May 25th, 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5/21/1996  
> Tuesday
> 
> "Didn't you know, Derrick?" David replied. "With horses, come babies."
> 
> I call bullshit.

**_5/19/1996  
_ ** **_Sunday_ **

_David woke up in an unnecessarily happy mood today. Woke me up at nine AM and asked if I wanted to come shoppin' with him today. I said no, I need my beauty sleep, goddammit, who goes shoppin' on Sundays?_

_David rolled his eyes and kissed my cheek and left._

_It wasn't 'til eleven that I got my sorry ass outta bed and now, at 12:26, I am writin' in this damn journal again._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

_update its 4:29 and david isnt home yet and im freaking out what do i do do i call him what if hes driving shit shit shi_

_he just walked in. ~~Newer~~ ~~nver~~ never mind._

_Jesus Christ, that scared me._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

**_5/20/1996  
_ ** **_Monday_ **

_I'm writing this entry as I listen to Ron blabber on about his wife's car._

_"It's the eighth accident in the past three months!" He whines. God, he's so annoyin'. I just wanna punch his teeth in. But then I'd get fired, and I kinda need this job._

_I keep tellin' Ron to fuck off. "I'm doin' work," I keep sayin' (I'm not doin' work, I'm writin' journals, but no one needs to know that)._

_Also, I'm trying to eat during my lunch break, dammit._

_Fuck off, Ron._

_Nobody asked you._

_Wait, didn't Mr. Catshit say somethin' about trying to get along with Ron?_

_Fuckin' hell._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

**_5/21/1996  
_ ** **_Tuesday_ **

_Today, David and I started talking about the kids. The unborn kids. The real life ~~babies~~ tiny humans (still hard to refer to them as babies, so tiny humans will do for now)._

_Somehow we got on the conjoined topic of this notebook. I told David that it was ironic that we found out about the babies around the same time I was assigned to write journal entries in this notebook and "reflect on myself", whatever the hell that means._

_"Didn't you know, Derrick?" David replied. "With horses, come babies."_

_I call bullshit._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

**_5/22/1996  
_ ** **_Wednesday_ **

_Today was a carpool day._

_Today also just so happened to be a bad day._

_I had to leave early. ~~because~~_

_David had to pick me up._

_Tomorrow is going to suck._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

**_5/23/1996  
_ ** **_Thursday_ **

_Mr. Catshit asked me to read another entry to him today. I read the Tuesday one, because all the others are embarrassing (see? I'm doing the thing again. The "describe everything as much as possible even if it makes it overkill to keep talking about it" thing. It's gotta be the horses, there's no way it's anything else. I'm not an open person, some horses aren't going to succeed in their attempts at making me open up like a flower in the springtime)._

_Mr. Catshit also asked me, very nicely, to stop calling him Mr. Catshit, because it was really rude, or somethin'. I can roll with that._

_So, I'll stop calling him ~~Mr. Catsh~~ (almost did it there) that._

_His real name is Mr. Vantas, anyway, so I might as well call him that._

_Mr. Vantas asked me why I thought it was hard to refer to my unborn kids as babies._

_I told him it just feels wrong._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

**_5/24/1996  
_ ** **_Friday_ **  

_David asked me what I wanted to name the kids. I said I didn't know, don't we have time before we have to think of names?_

_David said no._

_"Nope, we gotta think speedy quick about this..." forgot what he said here. "The curiosity is immense."_

_He probably used a different seven letter word for that last adjective, but I honestly cannot remember for the life of me what he said. I'm also not quite sure if that was even what he said in the first place, or even close to what he said. I don't remember._

_This happened as we were getting ready for the day, and it's about eight in the evening now?_

_No it's 11:51._

_That explains why I'm so tired._

_Today was an off day, really, and I'm absolutely fucking exhausted. Maybe I'll just go ahead and sleep for sixteen hours rather than my usual eight. That sounds so nice right about now._

_God i am so off my game right now ill tell the rest of the baby name story tomorrow._

_Derrick the motherfuck out._

 

**_5/25/1996  
_ ** **_Saturday_ **

_Alright, it's the next day and I'm as refreshed as I'm goin' to be, so I'll tell that baby name story now._

_Anywho, David asked me what I thought would be a good name for at least one of the babies. Two names, one for a boy, and one for a girl. Since I didn't have any names in my head at the moment, I came up with the most generic names I could ever have come up with._

_Dave and Rose._

_I think that David knows a Rose. Or maybe, her name is Roseanne? No, I'm thinkin' of Roxanne. Maybe the Rose that David knows is Rosa. Or Rosie. Roslyn? Rosie. Rosy. Rosemary?_

_Actually, I think it is Rosemary. Back to the story._

_David claimed we couldn't name one of the babies Dave, because his name was David, and Dave was too close to David, and pulled some weird science shit on me that I don't quite remember, but I do remember that he pulled some weird science shit on me._

_I said bullshit, and asked him what he had asked me._

_"Roxy or Dirk," he replied._

_I said that Dirk is awful damn close to Derrick, and remained stubborn about it, just to give David a taste of his own freakin' medicine. David called me an asshole. I called him a geek. He rolled his eyes._

_"How about we name him Dick," was my next suggestion, but David wasn't hearing any of it._

_"We aren't naming our child 'penis'."_

_I told him that he was right, we're not. We're naming him Dick. That's totally different._

_David refused Dick._

_"I'll meet you half-way at Richard." Again, another suggestion of mine, that David wouldn't even consider._

_"I'm not letting you name our child 'Richard', just so you can nickname him 'Dick'."_

_"Goddammit, just let me name our child Dick." At this point, of course I knew it wasn't going to happen, and I didn't care about it happening, but it was fun to mess with David._

_"Oh, for god's sake. For the last time, we are not naming our child 'penis'."_

_Derrick the motherfuck out._


End file.
